A Sad Day

My dear husband (DH) and I lost our little baby on Wednesday, May 18th, 2010 at 10:30pm. I felt that "she" was a girl, so we named her "Hope". Initially, I did feel that our Hope was lost...but now, I am convinced that my Hope is with Jesus Christ.

Two days previously...on Monday, May 16, 2010, I began to bleed in the late evening. I think it was around 11pm, but now that night is a blur. I phoned my supervisor at work, and shakily informed her that I thought I might be miscarrying. She was so compassionate, and even offered to come be with me. Although I didn't take her up on it, I was so grateful. She informed me that a sub would be found, and that I was not to worry about work.

I phoned a neighbour and friend, who dropped everything in order to drive me the 70km or so to the hospital where my DH could meet us at...as he was out of town, but the hospital was half way between us. This was not the hospital that my specialist works out of...that was an hour's drive from my home in the opposite direction.

My DH was there when I arrived. The nurse in the ER was so compassionate and full of hope...informing us that bleeding was common in pregnancy, and that it didn't always mean something negative. I was so nervous...I had such a forboding feeling.

A gynecologist was paged, as the doctor in the ER felt it was best to call in a specialist to do an ultrasound. The new doctor, a friendly and compassionate man, eased our fears as he performed the scan and showed me what I desperately longed to see...our little baby's beating heart. "Everything looks good and normal," came out of his mouth. He said that it was a threatened misscarriage, but it doesn't mean that it will end up in miscarriage. Placing me on at least one week of bedrest, he discharged me to go home.

I tried so hard to do everything "right"...but it didn't matter.

When my body rejected and expelled her, we were genuinely blessed to have been able to see and hold her tiny figure. She appeared perfect in every way. Hope's tiny, cream-coloured body was clearly visible inside her in-tact yolk sac. Her dark eyes, round head, and well-formed arms and legs were amazing, and heart-breaking, to see.

We placed her in an earring box...she was just over 2cm long, and fit perfectly. So small. Gently, we wrapped her in a favourite bandana of mine and when the T3 that my fertility specialist gave me began to kick in, and the edge was taken off of the cramps...and when my DH and I were too tired to keep our eyes opened, we went to bed...the first hard night...such a surreal night...the memories of it will never leave me.

On Thursday, May 19th, after my teen son left for school, DH and I drove to the nearby river, precious cargo in hand. We stopped and found a spot at Gnarly Crowe, a tree of great character and appeal, that my son and I named months previously. It is under Gnarly Crowe that my dead baby has been put to rest. DH grieved so purely as our little one's remains were placed in the earth. It felt so wrong. It is so wrong. I was in a fog...barely conscious of what it was that we were actually doing with the life that was certainly alive in me just a few short days previously.

I will write more later...and include a picture of Gnarly Crowe.

Hope is not gone. Hope is alive with Jesus.